Tumultuous
by angyxoxo
Summary: -Complete- He abandoned her. He comes back and over a course of three days, they re-discover each other in a way that neither thought could be possible. Their findings won't be easy as violence, passion, hatred, and love will consume them. Romy
1. It begins

I don't own these characters nor will I pretend I do... but really, if I was born like 40 years ago, I might have had a chance of inventing all these characters before Stan Lee did... and I could have owned all these guys! But luck would have it that I'm too young to do such a thing and since time travel doesn't exists yet, I'll just say that these characters are Marvel's... and I'm just messing about with it!

**Author's Note:** This is going to be a four-part story that explores the intricate complexities of Rogue and Remy's relationship. It will be mostly A/U and it shall remain short. I'm stuck on my other stories... and this weird dark creative side of me wants out again...bear with me here. Oh yeah! Go check out those stories in my C2 Community! Got a few gems there! Enjoy everyone and review s'il vous plait!

On with the story...

---

**Tumultuous**

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

The comforting light of the cigarette glows dimly in the dark smoky bar while he leans against the counter. Scanning the destitute room obsessively, he doesn't know what he expects to find but whatever it is, he knows he won't find it here. His wandering eyes accidentally lands on a pair of ice cold blue ones. She is surprised by the red-on-black eyes of his, but becomes immediately intrigued like they all do. The corners of her cherry lips curve up and he passes her a look of indifference before he turns around and sits down on the stool. She mistakes his nonchalant attitude as a sign of invitation and saunters over to him.

While he continues to smoke his cigarette, he feels the light but bold fingers of hers on his shoulder. He ignores it and signals the bartender for a refill. She doesn't give up and leans on the counter next him. He turns his head to his other side and away from her, and she still doesn't get the hint.

Finally, she whispers in a sultry voice, "Wanna play, handsome?"

He shrugs his shoulders and down his drink, taking his time with his reply. This insolent cocky attitude of his merely excites her even more. Eventually, he turns around to face her and she moves in closer to him, her breast almost at eye-level.

"C'mon, bad boy...show me how bad you can really be." She tempts him and he responds by pressing his lips against hers. There is no sensuality in the kiss. There is no softness. There is only a hardness that yearns for something she will never be able to give him. But he continues to kiss her deeper if not for anything but in vain.

She clasps her arms around his neck and pulls him deeper into her. He tastes as good as she has thought.

She only tastes bitter to him.

Violently, he pushes her off of him, causing her to yelp with surprise while she stables herself.

"What the fuck was that?" She screams at him.

"Sorry." He mumbles, not making any eye contact. She studies him for a while before she decides to try again. After all, it isn't every night that a gorgeous man has his tongue in her mouth. She latches on to him once more, and he pushes her off him again before she's even able to make her move.

"Just fuck off." He snaps at her, obviously angry at this point.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You a fucking fruit or something? Shit! Just trying to do you a favour but you know what, you fuck off too!" She yells indignantly, with not an ounce of class in her 5 feet 4 inches frame dressed in a black bustier and a pair of cheap-looking stilettos.

Instead of causing a bigger scene, he throws some bills on the counter and walks out of the bar, not bothering to look back.

He never does.

-xoxo-

Every night there is a different girl.

There are blondes, brunettes, redheads, and even a few dark-haired Asian ones. Blue eyes. Green eyes. Brown eyes. Hazel eyes. Tall. Small. Curvy. All of them different, yet, he won't be able to tell you a single thing about any of them.

To him, all they have is one thing in common; they offer him no relief from the reality he has made for himself.

For a man who is completely numb to every kind of raw emotions that exists, he yearns for something he has thrown away a long time ago. But being the stubborn man that he is, he won't go back for it. He can't go back for it. That isn't how he lives his life. As soon as he is done, he moves on. It doesn't matter that it's a mistake. It doesn't matter that it's the one thing that defines his life and gives it worth. None of it matters, because he doesn't look back. He only looks forward even if the future only appears bleak and meaningless. He can't look back.

Simply, he doesn't have the nerve to look back, let alone go back.

The mere idea of having to confront the one thing that has ever meant anything to him scares the hell out of him. He doesn't know what he can say to defend himself. He doesn't know what he can say to redeem himself. He has nothing to offer, not even a sorry-ass of an excuse.

Yet, there have been so many nights – too many nights perhaps of wandering in and out of towns, each night a different woman who is all the same to him and living a life of a drifter with no purpose whatsoever. It has been too long. He doesn't know it feels like to be alive anymore.

Sometimes he wonders if he even feels the contempt he has for himself.

The only thing he knows besides this deadening state of mind is that there is only one way out, and he isn't even sure that is what he wants. Yet, he knows his soul yearns for it more than anything it ever has.

Turning off the engine of his motorcycle, he hops off of it and walks up the stairs that leads to the second level of the motel. Once he approaches the room he knows so well, he enters it not through the door, but via the window. He slips in so softly that to the untrained ear, his presences will remain unknown.

But he won't be so lucky as she pounces on him unexpectedly with a knife in her hand. He falls back and she pins him to the ground with the use of her body. The blade is pressed against his neck and he can do nothing but smile at his attacker.

"It's been a long time, chere." He drawls slowly, testing his waters daringly while he looks directly into her hard green eyes, unafraid.

Too daringly it will seem, as she presses the knife deeper against his neck, drawing a drop of blood on the shiny blade.

"What the hell do ya think you're doing back here?"

------------------------------------


	2. It erupts

---Marvel owns 'em. I just mess 'em up. 

**A/N:** I'm going insane... bear with me.

* * *

**Tumultuous **

Her legs straddle his chest; her perfect heart-shaped face leans in so close to his that it's a breath away from touch; and her hand is holding firmly onto a knife that is pressed against his neck, right next to the jugulars. This position is just way too familiar, and he doesn't know whether he feels fear or arousal. He thinks it's the latter.

"Answer me, Cajun. What the hell do ya think you're doing back here?" She snarls her question again.

"Been missing dis, chere." He responds suggestively while his hands inch closer to her butt.

"Ya move those damn hands any farther up and ah'll cut your throat." She threatens, pressing the blade slightly deeper, causing another drop of blood to grace the silver blade.

"Can see y' haven't changed, chere." He states, half-bitter because of her icy reception and half-relieved with knowing that something's never change.

"Can see ya haven't either. Now, are ya gonna give me a straight answer, or do ah get t'see how deep ah can cut ya before ya do?" She demands in such a harsh manner, that momentarily he remembers what excitement is again. Not wanting to lose the sensation, he lifts his head forward and presses his lips against hers. Startled by his unanticipated action, she is stiff on the receiving end, but as he kisses her more ravenously, she remembers what it feels like to be completely enamoured with another person and the ecstasy that comes with it. Dropping the knife, she kisses him deeper while she runs her fingers through his hair. His hand has crept from her butt to her hips as he pulls her down to him so he can feel the warmth of her body against his.

"It's been too damn long, Rogue..." He murmurs in between their kisses.

"Just shut the fuck up, Cajun, before ah come to my senses." She replies as her hands dive underneath his shirt and trace the lines of his well-defined muscles.

"I want y', Rogue. Right here...right now." He mumbles. It will be the exact opposite of what she wants to hear though, as she pulls away from him immediately and gets up.

He follows her and gets up from the floor as well. He isn't surprised by her action the least bit. A part of him expects it. A part of him wants her to stop before they start this tumultuous road that will undoubtedly lead to one of them killing the other if they're not careful. But he can't help gazing at her longingly, trying to read her thoughts and figure out what she wants; though, he has never been able to do so then, nor does he expects to able to do so now.

She does the same to him as well. The way his lips thin out, the way his left nostril twitches ever so faintly, the way those ruby orbs burn into her very soul; she can tell you every single thing about his facial expressions and the many masks he wears, but she won't be able to tell you the one thing she has never been able to figure out about him and that is simply what he wants. More specifically, what he wants from _her_.

"This is a goddamn joke. Eight months... it's been eight damn months and ya walk in here like everything's the same." She begins and breaks the eye contact.

"Why do y' still live here like everything's de same?" He questions her and clearly hits a sore spot.

"Get the fuck out of here!" She yells and reaches for the knife again. She won't be so quick this time around as he lunges for it, and grabs it before she does. With adrenaline still coursing through her veins, she leaps at him from behind, but he manages to fling her onto the bed while pinning her down with him on top of her now.

"Seems de table has turned, cherie." He says cockily while he places the blade on her breastbone - where her very heart lays beneath it.

"Ah dare ya t'make a cut, Remy. Ain't like the physical pain will hurt as much as the emotional ones that ya have caused me. Do it, Remy. Make a scar that will only force me to remember what a goddamn prick ya are." She challenges, her eyes narrowed into slits that seem to hold only hatred for him.

Unable to stand the look of her eyes anymore, he throws the knife across the room. "Y' hurt me just as much as I hurt you." He states, opening the wounds that have never healed in either of them.

"Bullshit, Remy! Ya left me! Ya _chose_ to leave me! This is all your doing." She hisses and elbows him off of her.

"I did de physical, you did de emotional." He states simply while rolling out of bed. His hand reaches into the inner pocket of his trench coat where his packet of cigarettes lies. Taking one out, he charges the end of it and smokes it while she glare at him from across the room.

"That's gonna kill ya." She says.

"Better dis than you." He replies and puffs out a smoke ring right in her direction.

"Why are ya here? Still haven't answered me." She demands impatiently with her arms crossed and her untrusting eyes shooting daggers at him.

"Missed your _warmth_, chere." He says sardonically.

"Ah fucking hate you." She responds angrily, while trying to subdue the urge to pounce him again but this time driving the knife into his heart.

"Ain't too fond of you at de moment eit'er." He states bitterly, while trying to restrain himself from grabbing her and showing her just how much he hurts too. An ironic laugh escapes him when he realizes that all this time of coveting the ability to feel again, it will be hatred, the least desirable, that consumes him first.

"Ah didn't ask ya t'come back here." She sneers.

"But looks like y' expected me too. Seems de room hasn't changed one bit in de last eight months." He says while his eyes stare at his mug that still sits on the table next to his side of the bed.

"Ah don't clean up after your shit then, nor do ah do so now." She states coldly.

"Maybe dat's de problem, Rogue. We were too busy covering our own asses dat we forgot about caring for each ot'er." He suggests the truth that she will instantly oppose.

"Remy.., ya were too busy covering your own ass t'care about me. Ya left me. Ya wanted out. Ya got out, regardless of me. It has always been you, not me." She says in a low calm manner that sends chills up his spine. He has forgotten how her words can simply make him feel a mixture of fear, hatred, and desire all at once – so entangled with each other that he isn't even sure if the sensation is possible.

"Fuck de bullshit, Rogue. Y' didn't want to commit t'me just as much as I didn't want t'commit to you. I just had de balls t'finally get and leave dis fucked-up relationship!" He yells at her, while the emotions suppressed in his black heart finally unleashes.

"Ya always think it's as easy as that! Ya always think that whatever the fuck you feel must be what the hell ah feel as well! Ya always pretend to know me. Ya pretend to know everything that's about me! When are ya gonna wake up and realize that for the year we were together, ya didn't know a goddamn thing about me and that is why ya chose to get up and leave? When are ya gonna finally accept the fact that why this relationship is so fucked-up was because ya were too damn scared t' learn who ah am?" She cries at him.

"And what about you, Rogue? Y' think y' know everyt'ing about me? Y' think you have dis all figured out! Dat y' can see me for everyt'ing I am? Y' didn't know a goddamn t'ing about me eit'er! Y' didn't bot'er to learn! And y' say y'love me yet you don't even understand de first t'ing about me. What kind of love is dat, Rogue? How can I accept a love dat holds no understanding - no knowledge of de man I am?" He barks at her, enraged that she is trying to put the blame on him.

"How the hell am ah supposed t'understand ya if ya didn't even let me?!" She shouts at him exasperatedly.

"How de hell am I supposed t'know y' when y' don' tell me anything about y'?" He questions, more calmly than she does since he recognizes it now. A second later, she does too. Their hatred is based on nothing, just like their love. But it won't stop her from using the feeling in vain.

"Ah hate ya for doing this to me!" She cries out of frustration as she reaches for his cup and throws it at him. He ducks just in time as the cup misses his head by only an inch. He notices that she's eyeing the knife again, but before he can even register his next move, she has it in her hand and she charges at him. He slides out of her way so she whizzes past him. However, he will grab her from behind and clasp his hands firmly on her abdominal. She struggles within his grasp but he merely holds her tighter to him.

"Ah hate ya for coming back here! Ah hate ya for screwing wit' mah mind again! Ah hate you, Remy! Ah hate you!" She cries incoherently as angry hurt tears flow out of her eyes.

"I know y' do... but de problem is, y' love me just as much as y' hate me." He says ever so softly, and she relents.

She drops the knife. He turns her around so she's facing him. He drowns in her pained loving eyes. She stares up into his incomprehensible red ones, and even though she still doesn't know what he's thinking or feeling, she can't help but miss the feeling of looking into his eyes. Her vulnerability gets the best of her and she pulls him down for a searing kiss. He lifts her up and places her on the bed gently, making an effort not to mar her even more than he has already done so.

He undresses her carefully.

She undresses him impatiently.

He has never felt this good to her.

She has never tasted so sweet to him.

-----------------------------


	3. It opens

--- Marvel owns 'em. I just fuck 'em up. 

**A/N:** Going insane here... I don't know who's writing this. I have no definite storyline for this piece but it flows out of me like I'm possessed by the devil who wants to write fanfiction... forgive my absurdity. I have lost my mind.

* * *

**Tumultuous**

His soft breathing assures her that he is sleeping while she sits with her back to his slumbering body. The room is completely enraptured in a blanket of darkness but she knows where it lies. In a few quick strides, she finds it and lights it. A dim light exists in the room now as she walks slowly back to him. Kneeling down so she's at face level with his, she studies him. His aquiline jaw line, those rough thin lips, and his closed eyelids – they all contribute to his tranquil look of what resembles a saint.

But saints do no wrong, and with his nature, wrong is all he does.

A part of her wants to kill him right now for causing her the pain he has for the last eight months. Worrying about his whereabouts. Sitting by the phone waiting for a call. Trying to deal with the absence of her heart, the one he has taken with him. He is right when he said that she has expected him to come back. But whether or not she has expected him to come back to love her or to die at her hands, it is still unknown to her. She will find out in due time as will he.

As if he intuitively knows that it's time for his presence to resume itself again, his eyes pop wide-open, and he grins slyly.

"Still wanna kill me, chere?" He asks her in a mocking tone.

"A stupid question doesn't deserve an answer." She states coldly, not moved at all by his sudden alertness.

"Admit it... just as hard as y' loved me just now, y' wanna kill me just as badly." He jeers further, purposely enticing her to make a move. He knows it's a risky game that he's playing, but with Rogue, everything is a risk.

"Get out of mah bed, Cajun." She orders while trying to remain her distant cool self, but finding it extremely hard to maintain.

"Last I remembered, it's _our_ bed, chere. Let's say we make good use of it again." He proposes suggestively and licks his lips in a crude disgusting manner, intentionally making her feel like just another whore in his life. It does the job as she spills the hot wax from the candle in her hands onto his chest. He yelps out in pain and jumps out of the bed.

"What's de matter wit' you?" He cries angrily at her, while trying to rub the burning sensation from his skin.

Standing still with the candle still in her hands, her eyes are completely mesmerized by the flame while she responds slowly. "Ya wanted it, ah just gave it to ya."

Boldly, he approaches her and grabs her wrist. She looks up at him with confused green eyes; he looks down at her with harsh red ones. "Little girls shouldn't play wit' fire." He states in a low husky voice before he extinguishes the flame with one puff of breath. The room becomes completely dark again and it works to her advantage. In a matter of a few quick moves, she has his naked self pinned to the ground with her naked self right on top of him.

"This girl ain't so little, sugah. Remember that." She whispers into his ear before she promptly gets up and looks for something to slip on. Seconds later, from the corner of the room, a faint light breaks through the velvet black, and he sees her staring down at him from her stance. She is dressed in a long black t-shirt now, one that he recognizes as his own.

"Ya gonna lie here naked all night?" She questions.

"Depends... y' gonna need me in dis position anytime soon?" He queries, not missing a single beat with that delivery. Her foot aims for his head, he reaches for it just in time and twists it so she falls face first into the grey dusty carpet. He climbs on top of her, while holding both of her hands behind her back. She doesn't flinch nor does she struggle. She simply waits for his next move. He buries his head in the crook of her neck, taking a long lingering whiff of her scent.

"Y' still smell like lavender, chere." He murmurs with his hot breath skimming across her neck down to her cheek.

"And you still reek of cigarettes, what's your point?" She retorts, hating the effect he is having on her.

"One night, chere. Dat's all I'm asking." He begins, loosening his hold on her.

"Ah want two then." She replies, without a clue of what she's asking for but just knowing that it's best to take as much as she can from him.

"Fine. Tonight's my night. Tomorrow and de day after, it's yours. Now, get up, chere." He orders and pulls her up along with him. As soon as she is standing again, she pulls her hand away from him. "Now what game are we playin' now, Remy?" She queries with a brow arched and anticipating another senseless answer from him.

"Let's make a deal." He replies coyly.

"Seems like the game's over then." She states with her arms crossed as she blew a strand of white out of her face.

"It's far from over. But tonight is my night. Get undressed." He instructs her. Laughing cynically, she whips the shirt off her body and throws it at him.

"Anything else ah can do for ya, my highness? A blow job perhaps? Or shall ah just spread my legs right now? Tell me what ya want your whore t'do." She mocks bitterly and expects him to grin lustfully at her and playing her as the whore she thinks she is to him. However, his smile will disappear and his eyes will become cold and unresponsive.

"Dis is not what I came back for." He says softly.

"Really now? Well, enlighten me. What did ya come back for? Ah thought Remy LeBeau never looks back, let alone go back." She reminds him.

"Can't go back somewhere I've never left." He replies, meeting her gaze and for a split second, her eyes become soft and accepting. But it will only last a second.

"Ah didn't know ya were here the whole time, Remy! If ah had known that ya were playing hide-and-seek with me, ah would have looked sooner." She responds sarcastically.

"Dere ain't no reasoning with you is dere, Rogue? Dere never is." He begins, his voice raising.

"And ah can never get a straight answer from you! Seems like we're even. Ya won't tell me anything, and ah won't listen to your bullshit. We're a perfect match, eh?" She says mordantly.

"Orphaned when I was an enfant. Used as punching bag when I was a kid until I was old enough t'kill dat bastard dat took me in. Anything else y' wanna know, chere?" He sneers angrily at her with information of his past that he has never shared with anyone.

Her harsh countenance quickly turns into one that he has often dreamt of seeing. Her eyes soften. Her face becomes worried and pensive. She finally looks at him with a rawness that exposes all her intentions for what they really are. She just wants to be free to love him and he knows it. Problem is, he doesn't know how to let her.

He turns his back on her, grabs a chair and seats himself in front of the window. Within moments, she places a hand on his shoulder and he looks up at her, giving her the signal that it's okay. She seats herself down on his lap, wraps both her arms around his neck and rests her head on his shoulder. His arms encircle her waist as he holds her close to him. The hatred subsides in both of them, enough for the love to surface. How long it will last? Neither knows, but they're going to take it for all it's worth.

"Does it hurt?" She asks quietly.

"From time t'time." He replies honestly.

"Ah'm sorry, Remy." She says, not quite sure what she is apologizing for but she means the words nonetheless.

"Me too." He whispers his response and tightens his hold on her. He has missed this feeling and at that very moment, he never wants to let it go.

"Just wanted t'watch de sunrise wit' y', chere. Like dis." He finally tells her of his true objective for his request of one night. With a nimble finger, she traces his jaw line down to the small incision she has made in his neck earlier that night. The blood has dried by now as she skims across it. Then, ever so gently, she leans in and licks it off – cleaning his wound and hopefully beginning the first step of healing his soul.

----------------------------------


	4. It continues

--- Marvel owns 'em. I just fuck 'em up. 

**A/N:** I'm not happy with this chapter but the devil is. He has taken me in a direction I don't want to go. And apparently, he has changed his mind to making this story a 6-part story. I hate him... and in response to Ludi's constructive critique, he says, "he's working on it... english grammar is hard for him." Satan is a bitch.

* * *

**Tumultuous**

Cradling her in his arms, he admires the way the natural sunlight underlines the beauty of her profile. Her smooth silky complexion, those full luscious lips, long lashes that draws him to her eyes and if she was awake at the moment, it will lead to the most striking pair of eyes he has ever seen. Every facial feature he can remember perfectly in his mind. Every freckle, blemish, birthmark on her voluptuous body, he can recall in detail.

But if you ask him what lies beneath the exterior, all he is able to do is bend his head and admit he has not a single knowledge of what lies beneath the skin besides the unexplainable love she apparently has for him.

Earlier, she has claimed that he doesn't want to know who she is – that he is afraid to learn.

What she doesn't realize is that he can't even comprehend his own nature, so how can he possibly take on hers?

She stirs and her eyes slowly open. Resting her head on his shoulder, she smiles faintly at him and he returns the sentiment.

Perhaps a part of her is still living in her reverie. Perhaps a part of her is still holding onto a dream that only exists in her slumbering form. Whatever the reasons, the walls come down and she requests in the softest voice, barely audible to the ear, "Make _love_ t'me, Remy."

No words are spoken after that as he picks her up and carries her to the bed. Laying her down gently, he kisses her sensually and savours her honey lips. His lips will move down to her neck, nibbling the velvety flesh. It has been a long time since he has been able to feel like this when in the intimate presence of a woman, where every taste only becomes sweeter than the last. As his lips move down her body, they rest on her pert breasts and suckle her nipple. Her back arches with pleasure and a moan escapes her lips.

His adept hands caresses her body, rubbing all the spots that he knows gives her the greatest gratification. The crook in her lower back, her inner thighs, and the outer side of her breasts – yes, he knows all the right places to touch. Reading her body has never been a problem for him. It's understanding beyond that, that is.

"Now, Remy." She requests softly, unable to take the torture of his hands any longer.

With a swift motion, he thrusts into her. Their bodies move in sync perfectly, slow at the beginning then faster as their desire can no longer be dragged on. Finally, one final thrust into her, she releases and cries out in ecstasy, bringing him to his release as well.

Breathing heavily, he looks down at her perspiring face, hoping that he can interpret what she is feeling, thinking, wanting. She looks back at him with the same intensity, trying to read his expressions and thoughts.

He sees nothing.

She sees nothing.

He slides out of her and rolls onto the side of the bed – his back to her. She too turns her back to him while finally being pulled back to reality.

She doesn't understand it.

He doesn't understand it.

How can two souls be so intertwined with one another, yet not have a single clue who the other is?

-xoxo-

Pulling the drapes back all the way, a violent burst of sunlight pours into the room and hits him. He grumbles as he tosses a pillow in the light's direction. "Close dose damn t'ings!" He yells at her while smothering his face into the bedding.

Laughing snidely, she ignores his request and walks to him. "It's almost three in the afternoon, sugah." She informs him and he flips onto his back. Squinting, she suddenly comes into perfect view and he notices she's fully dressed in a pair of jeans, a pink t-shirt and a pair of sandals.

"Where are y' going?" He asks groggily.

She saddles him and bends down so that her face is an inch away from his. "Somewhere." She responds vaguely and presses her lips against his. Letting his passion overrun him, he kisses her back with just as much ferocity not even noticing how she i_s_ lifting his arm above his head.

_Snap._

She pulls back and gets off of him. He looks up to find that he has been handcuffed to the bedpost. Not knowing whether to scowl or smile, he opts for the latter and grins slyly at her.

"We gonna play Cops and Robbers, chere?" He questions suggestively.

"Hm... if we were, seems like it's game over since the thief has obviously been caught." She points out.

"How about y' release me and we'll play a _fair_ game, chere?" He proposes, clearly amused by the situation.

"Wasn't born yesterday, Cajun. Ah don't believe ya even know the meaning of 'fair'." She scoffs. With that last comment, she turns around and heads for the door.

"Wait! Where do y' t'ink you're going?" He cries from his position, realizing that he could be in this spot for an indefinite amount of time.

"Ah'm gonna go grab some food. Ah'll be back soon." She shrugs her answer not even bothering to turn around and look at him.

"But y' can't leave me like dis!" He yells after her.

"Ya got your night sugah, it's mah turn that ah get mah two." She simply states before she slams the door shut.

-xoxo-

Leaning back against the chair with a carton of Chinese food in hand, she watches him. He has been asleep since she has returned and she doesn't know whether or not he is feigning it. A part of her knows that he probably is. He is calculating his next move, trying to figure out how to be two steps ahead of her.

She, too, is calculating her next move. A part of her wants to give up the insanity and move beyond all the hurt, pain, and destruction. The other part of her just won't let go. She wants to help him, yet she wants to hurt him. It's a constant battle between her heart and mind. But she can't help but think that once the battle ceases, it will all just simply end.

And that scares her more than the twisted desire to love and hurt him.

"Y' gonna offer me some?" He asks her, finally waking up from his long slumber.

"Ya hate Chinese." She replies.

"Still remember?' He queries redundantly.

"That's _why_ ah got Chinese." She answers icily.

"Love your consideration, Rogue. Always was one of your _best_ characteristics..." He states, his words dripping with sarcasm.

"Couldn't depend on you t'look out for me... knowing your inability to maintain a stable life and all." She jeers right back.

A bitter chuckle leaves his mouth as he says, "So, we're back t' square one."

"Don't think we ever left square one. Think we just took a temporary leave of absence." She comments.

"Why don' y' come back over here and we take anot'er one of dose absences?" He suggests slowly, thickening his Cajun accent.

"Nice try, Swamp Rat, but the cards are in mah hands t'night, ah do the suggesting and you just do what ah tell ya to do." She tells him bluntly and smirks with satisfaction.

"And what do y' want me t'do, chere? Because from my position, I don' t'ink I can do much of what y' want." He says and shakes his handcuffed hand to support his point.

She puts down her carton of food, wipes her mouth with a napkin and casually glides across the room to his side. She bends over with her hands pressed firmly against the mattress to support herself. "What ah want don't require ya t' do anything but look pretty, right where ya are." She drawls.

"Kinky. Y're getting me all excited here, chere." He says while giving her a wink.

"Ah can see that..." She says and her eyes shifts to the sudden animated area on his body.

Just as he is about to make another provoking comment, she beats him to it as she snaps, "But contain yourself. Ah don't have time for any more bullshit."

"And de fun has ended. What do y' want, den, Rogue? And try telling me dis time as opposed to all de ot'er times where y' just assume dat I would know. Let me remind y' again, I don't have telepathy." He mocks.

"Tell me what ya want from me. Why did ya come back here after ditchin' me all those months ago? Why are we torturing ourselves again? What makes this time so much different from all the other?" She ignores his comment and goes straight to the point.

"Maybe dis time isn't so different..." He says simply.

"Ah knew ah should have killed ya when ah had the chance." She cries out in frustration and walks away from him.

"You can still do it now." He points out in an almost challenging tone, wanting to find out just how far she'll go which also means finding out just how much he has pained her.

"Ain't mah philosophy to hurt the wounded." She spits out bitterly.

"And who said I'm wounded?" He questions.

"Ah want an answer, Remy." She ignores his question to make her demand.

"I can't give y' one – at least, not one dat y' want t'hear." He tells her honestly.

"Tell me anyway." She requests, this time in a much softer voice.

"Just wanted t' fuck ot'er women." He states blatantly. She flinches from his harsh words.

"And realized dat y' were de best fuck out of all of 'em." He continues malevolently and purposely adding insult to the injury.

Finally realizing what he is doing to her, she walks back to the bed and climbs on top of him. Tears are forming in her eyes as she gazes into his. "Why do we do this to each other?" She queries.

"Because it's what we do." He answers and stares straight into her vulnerable green eyes.

"Ah want t'stop now." She whispers.

"I don' t'ink we know how, Rogue." He states truthfully.

"Just let me help ya." She tells him.

"I can't help myself, ain't no way you can do it." He responds.

"Let me in so ah can understand. Let me see what's in this head of yours. Let me know your past, your torments, your everything. Let me help ya." She instructs, but he thrashes his body violently trying to get her off him.

"Get off me, Rogue! Just get off! You can't help me because dere is no way t'help me! I'm a fucking lost cause! Just get de fuck off of me!" He yells at her, trying to suppress the fierce painful emotions that are trying to escape.

She hangs onto him though as she begins to kiss his face, his neck, his chest, everywhere and anywhere on his body that might hold a scar she doesn't know about. "Ah love ya. Let me understand who ah'm loving. Let me help ya release them." She whispers over and over again between her multitudes of kisses.

"Rogue! Stop it! Just stop it!" He cries out while every single emotion hits him like a hurricane. He can't distinguish the hatred from the love, the pain from the joy, the desire from the detested, the sadness from the anger. He can't stand it anymore. This is why he never looks back. This is why he can't look back because he can't deal with the conflicting agonizing emotions. This is why he has left her in the first place. She causes him to feel everything that is possible when most of the time he doesn't want to feel at all.

"Just tell me, Remy. Release the demons." She instructs him and kisses him on his bottom lip, which he snaps his mouth shut and bites into her upper lip.

He expects her to cry out in pain and hopefully end this emancipation of his soul. But she merely pulls back as a drop of blood falls onto his lips. The saline taste of her blood seeps onto his tongue.

The exchange has been made and he has unwillingly accepted.

----------------------------------


	5. It ends

--- Marvel owns 'em. I just fuck 'em up. 

**A/N:** Almost done... hang in there, angy. Hang in there.

* * *

**Tumultuous**

Her body is pinning his down. Her lips are leaving bittersweet kisses all over him, which also leaves a trail of blood. His body is still stiff as he tries to resist her warmth, her offer of help – her love.

"Please, Rogue. Just get off me." He pleads to her as he twists his body left and right.

She hangs on to him as her tears trickle onto his body. "Ah can't. Ah can't. Please, just tell me, Remy. Ah'm sick of these games. Ah'm sick of hating myself for lovin' ya so much. Ah'm sick of hating the fact that ah love ya even though ah don't know who ya are. Let me know. Let me help ya. Let's finally help each other." She proposes desperately, hoping with all hope that they can end this perverse game tonight.

"Rogue, I can't! Just understand dat I can't!" He cries out as his inner demons fight for their release.

"Please, sugah. Ah'll start. Ah was born Anna Marie Raven. Momma got beaten a lot, she died. Daddy beat me next..." She mumbles in a rush, as her kisses grow weaker and her tears flow faster.

"Rogue... stop it. I don't want t'hear dis." He begs of her, not wanting to understand her and not wanting to allow her to understand him.

"Beat me 'til ah was black and blue and when ah was old enough...he..." She chokes on the last word, struggling to get it out. He can feel her pain and he knows she doesn't want to say it. He knows that she's only doing this for him. As incomprehensible as it is to him, he knows it's because of her love for him. Finally, he realizes what her, no, - _their_ love means. It's not meant to be a simple black and white kind of love. Their love is driven by a rawness that the emotions they feel cuts deeper than they're used to. The passion is driven by such intensity that sometimes the only way it can be quickly released is through violence and pain. Half the time, their love makes them want to hurt each other until the pain becomes insufferable. The other half of the time, it simply wants them to protect one another. It is the latter that takes him over now.

"Killed the bastard wit' my bare hands, Rogue! I choked him t'deat'. I was fourteen. Den ran away from home, and one way or anot'er I kept killin', chere. Just always said it was 'cause I had t'survive, but life shouldn't be like dat." He reveals in an attempt to divert the pain onto himself.

"Ah know it shouldn't be like that. Mystique came along, and used me t'kill. Ah killed too, Remy. Ah know how it hurts t'take another person's life." She further informs him, as she collapses and rests her head on his chest while sobbing profusely.

He gets it now.

Her soul has been used over and over again in the past, taken advantage by people who had no right at all. Her life is a series of performing malicious deeds for others. Her life has no meaning to her as far as she can tell. That's why she wants to love him despite the fact that she doesn't know who he is. She wants to love him because she wants to make him the reason - the purpose that she has been searching for all her life. But a part of her still believes that her life is not hers at all and that is why she purposely pushes him to emotionally abuse her the way he does. Half of her wants to be free to love him and finally accept that she has a reason in life and that it's _her_ life. The other half is holding onto a notion that she has been instilled with since her birth: that her life is not her own and instead belongs to whoever that wants to take it.

"It isn't your fault, Rogue." He says softly and wraps his free arm around her body, pulling her closer to him.

"Ah'm sorry ah didn't tell ya before. Ah didn't know how..." She explains but is cut off by him.

"Every life I took, dey take a part of me wit' 'em. Ain't nothing left of me now, chere. Ain't nothing left for y' t'love." He says, and completes the exchange.

It's her turn to get it now, and she does.

Whereas her whole life has consisted of people abusing her and taking pieces of her life away from her, his is based on one where he does the taking of his own life. For whatever circumstances and reasons, he has taken the lives of others, not realizing that they will take a piece of him with them to their graves. A part of him dies every time he kills, and ultimately when he realizes that, it has become too late. He discovers he has nothing left and there is nothing left for him in this world. But then, he meets her and they are drawn to each other despite both their better judgements. Like she has tried to make him the light in her dark excruciating existence, he has tried to make her his redemption for what he has done and hopefully restore some sort of life back into his soulless body.

Their love for each other is one and the same

"Has t'be something there, sugah. 'Cause it's why ah love ya." She says softly as her crying subsides.

"I love y' too." He whispers.

He closes his eyes.

She closes her eyes.

And they finally let peace take over.

-xoxo-

The light peeks through the crack in the curtain and he wakes up. His right arm is sore and his body feels heavy. When he looks down, he sees that she's still asleep. With his free arm that is still wrapped around her, he taps her lightly.

"Rogue... chere, wake up." He says quietly.

She stirs but doesn't wake. Again, he nudges her and says a bit louder this time, "Rogue, sleepyhead. Time t'get up."

Yawning, she opens her eyes and gazes up at him with a confused expression. "Time is it?" She asks.

"Don't know. Ain't got anyt'ing on me right now... well, except you of course." He responds lightly and smiles at her. Noticing his current state of dress, she laughs and wraps her arms around his body. "Ah like mah man, naked."

"Well, dis man needs t'pee... badly." He says and shakes his handcuffed wrist,

"Oh right... we never did take advantage of that." She states, slightly disappointed. Rolling off of him, she reaches into her shirt and pulls out the key. He looks at with her astonishment.

"Y' hid it your bra?" He queries though the answer is apparent.

"It's the safest place." She shrugs and finally frees him from the bedpost.

He is about to run off to the bathroom when he stops and kisses her deeply on the lips. When he pulls back, she stares at him with surprise. A lop-sided grin graces his face while he gives her a wink before running off to relieve himself.

When he returns, he finds her standing with a hand on her hip and his keys in her other hand, twirling it about. "Y' wanna go somewhere, chere?" He asks the obvious.

"Ah'm hungry. Let's go eat." She states bluntly.

"You're hungry? I haven't eaten for over 24 hours!" He exclaims.

"Yeah...well, let's go eat then." She suggests again, this time more sheepishly.

"Okay, but I'm picking where we eat." He says firmly.

"Fine. Let's go." She persists and turns around to leave.

"Uhh... Rogue." He speaks up, and she turns around to give him an impatient glare. "What?"

"I'm still naked, chere. And as pleasant as it is for de ladies out dere, I'm t'inking dat I don't want t'get arrested t'day." He informs her and she only crosses her arms to show her impatience

"Cajun, ya ain't God's gift t'women. Now, get dressed. Ah'm hungry!" She declares once more and throws his jeans at him. He catches it and looks at it with distaste.

"What's wrong now?" She questions almost exasperatedly.

"I've worn dese for four days now... dey kind of stink." He answers slowly and drops the jeans.

"Oh mah gawd!" She cries and throws her hands up. Walking over to the dresser, she yanks open a drawer, grabs a pair of dark jeans and a white t-shirt and throws it at him. "There! Clean clothes... if ya keep me from eatin' any longer, ah'll go wit'out ya!" She yells at him.

Clutching onto his fresh change of clothes, he looks at her with surprise. "Y' did my laundry while I was gone...?"

"Well... ya never know when a man your build might need some clothes..." She attempts to shrug it off nonchalantly, though he can see right through her act.

But instead of picking on her about it, he simply smiles and says, "Right."

She smiles back at him and orders, "Now get dressed. Ah'm hungry."

"Whatever y' say, mon amour."

-xoxo-

"Two please." She requests.

"Hmm... are y' sure about dat, petite?" He questions her move, and raises a brow.

"Yeah, ah know how t'play! Now give me two cards, Cajun." She demands and he deals her two. She picks them up and concentrates hard on her hand. "Why do ya like de Queen of Hearts so much, Remy?" She asks offhandedly.

"Why y' asking, chere?" He queries in return, while being a bit caught off guard by her sudden inquiry.

"Well, what's so special about her? Why ya always use her last?" She expands on her question.

"She's my lucky lady, chere. Simple as dat." He answers and gives her a wink.

"Okay... Remy, ah never meant t'scare ya." She says abruptly and changes the topic entirely.

"What do y' mean?" He asks, not quite sure what event she is referring to since there has been so many.

"Ah just mean that... ah didn't want t'get married. Ah didn't want t' have your babies." She explains and continues to focus on her cards.

"Geez... thanks." He responds indignantly.

"Gosh... ya know what ah meant. Ah just... ah didn't want ya t'feel that being with me meant that one day we would have to settle down, and get married, and have kids, and be boring. Ah never had any plans for us contrary to your beliefs. Ah just wanted t'be with ya. Didn't matter where we were or how we did things. As long as ah was with ya, that's all that mattered." She clarifies, and basically acknowledges that she already knows the reasons why he has left her in the beginning.

"Didn't really mean t'leave, y'know..."

"And ah'm sure ya didn't mean t'come back either." She interrupts him

"But I am..." He says simply.

She wants to ask him if he is glad he is back, but she doesn't have the nerve to do such a thing. The fear of rejection for the second time will be too much for her to handle, and as the saying goes; _'ignorance is bliss.'_

"So... what do you have planned for me tonight, chere?" He asks in order to change the topic.

"Don't know yet... we'll have t' wait and see." She tells him.

"Well, hopefully it ain't somet'ing crazy..." He begins.

"Well, then there won't be any fun t'night." She tells him.

"Point taken."

"Remy, ah know ah get only one more night wit' ya and it's fine. Ah don't expect ya t'be here tomorrow when ah wake. Ah don't expect us t' go back to a relationship and live happily ever after. Ah don't expect us to be together after tonight." She informs him and looks at him in the eyes finally.

"Okay..." He manages to spit out, not thinking quick enough for a better response.

"Ah just want ya t'hold me tonight. That's all. Ah just want one night where ah can pretend that everything is right in the world and that ah belong in it. No sex. No talking. Just hold me. Okay?" She asks him, exposing her vulnerability and all her insecurities for the first time to anyone. Tears are hanging on the brims of her eyes and her right hand is trembling slightly.

"Okay. I can do dat. I can do dat right now." He agrees and takes her hand to guide her over to his lap. She sits down and nuzzles her head in the crook of his neck. "Thank ya." She whispers softly.

"Y're welcome." He replies and throws down his cards so he can hold her closer to him.

She looks down at his full house of Jacks and then throws down her hand.

"Looks like lady luck is on mah side." She says and grins at him.

It was a full house of Queens.

He smiles back and realizes lady luck is on his side too.

-xoxo-

The night is quickly turning into day and she has her back to him. His arms are wrapped around her waist. Neither is sleeping and both are waiting for the sun to rise.

Her heart is thumping rapidly, and she's trying to squeeze the tears back. She knows he's going to leave her and she has prepared herself this time, but it hurts nonetheless.

He's holding her close to her, taking in her scent and trying to remember this moment in perfect detail. He knows he has to leave. The fact that he shouldn't have come back in the first place is reason enough for him to go. Every logical part of him is telling him to leave her.

After all, she has set him free.

She has set him free in every way possible.

It's time he sets her free.

The light of the morning dawn is peeking through the curtains. She tightens her eyes shut as she tries to fight against the tears. His hands are loosening around her waist and she knows he's going to go. And go, he must, but she can't watch him walk away from her again. So, she continues to feign sleep while she waits for it to be over.

Just as he's about to pry himself away from her, he grips her tightly for one last moment. Ever so softly, he whispers, "Je t'aime, mon amour. Je t'aime."

He gets up from the bed, grabs his keys and leaves the room quickly, not wanting to delay it any further. She turns around and watches the door slam shut while the tears spill uncontrollably. She hugs her pillow tightly as her heart breaks all over again.

"Ah love ya too." She whispers.

And her life becomes dark once more.

------------------------


	6. It is

--- Marvel owns 'em. I just fuck 'em up. 

**A/N:**

And I am done.

This is my poetry; this is my song; this is my vision.

This is me.

Thank you.

* * *

**Tumultuous**

Curled up in a fetal position with her eyes closed, she tries to forget him. She doesn't know how long it has been since he has left but it doesn't matter. The only thing that does is that he's gone and she's lost again.

She doesn't know where to go from here. She doesn't know how to be anymore. She doesn't know whether or not her life goes back to what it was before him, or if she's supposed to forge ahead with optimistic beliefs that just do not reside in her. Her life doesn't feel like her own anymore.

All she sees is darkness.

The tears come again as she tries to fight the pain. But it hurts too much. It hurts to the point that she simply just can't deal with it anymore. She just wants it to end. She just wants her life to end. She just wishes that she never existed in the first place.

She is lost within herself in a world where she doesn't belong.

Suddenly, she feels a pair of strong arms wrap around her body – pulling her to the surface.

"Been here like dis for de last t'ree days?" His Cajun accent asks softly.

"It's been that long?" She questions.

"Yeah." He simply replies.

"Oh..."

"Look at me, Rogue." He requests and she slowly turns over to face him. Placing a hand on his rough face, her watery green eyes looks into his soft red ones.

"Ya really here?" She asks, not quite sure whether this is a dream or reality.

"Yeah... I'm here." He assures her, and kisses her on the forehead.

"Okay then." She says simply while trying to remember this moment just as it is, in case it's still only a dream.

"Didn't get very far." He tells her.

"Why?" She asks.

"Realize I can't run from somet'ing I don't wanna run from." He informs her and smiles lightly.

"Oh...okay." She accepts his explanation without asking anything more. Breathing in his scent of cigarettes and spices, she finds the courage to kiss him softly on the lips, which consolidates the fact that he really has returned. When she pulls back, she says, "Forgot t'tell ya ah love ya."

"It's alright. I already know." He excuses her.

"Good." She murmurs.

"Rogue?"

"Mmhmm?"

"I don't know where dis is gonna lead us. I don't know if we'll work. I don't know if dere is a happy ending for us. I don't know if we will continue t'hurt each ot'er. I don't know anyt'ing except dat dis is who we are. And it's about time, we just let ourselves be." He explains to her.

"Okay." She agrees.

With that, he pulls her closer to him and finally, they free themselves from all their inhibitions and demons to simply be.

That's the way it should be.

And that's the way it is.

---------------------------------


End file.
